


What Immortal Hand Or Eye

by Triple_Gemini



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, BAMF Bones, BAMF Leonard "Bones" McCoy, Gonna warn you on that one XD, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, M/M, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Poisoning, Psychological Trauma, Torture, Violence, its not nearly as bad as it seems, lolsoundsfunright, sad jim is also angry, sad jim is sad, vague writing style
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-02
Updated: 2017-07-02
Packaged: 2018-11-22 10:02:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11377914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Triple_Gemini/pseuds/Triple_Gemini
Summary: The drinks are good. They burn on the way down and leave him feeling more than a little tipsy. He's not sure how many he's had but there's one server that's being particularly attentive to keeping his cup full, so he's probably imbibed more than he should've.It isn't until later, being chased through the forests of an unexplored world, dizzy, delusional and entirely alone that he vows to never drink substances he doesn't have access to the ingredients of, no matter how good they are.Good dose of hurt Bones, emotionally destroyed Jim, both of them being ridiculously in love with each other and lots of angst...(with a happy ending ;)





	What Immortal Hand Or Eye

**Author's Note:**

> Hello peeps, sorry I haven't posted or updated in a while, life keeps getting in the way. Here's another kinda flouncy pretentious fic from me, because it's fun to write. Hope you enjoy, I'll get around to updating at some point XD 
> 
> Title from William Blake's "The Tyger" which is one of my favourite pieces of literature ever.
> 
> Ps. I know time changes are difficult and annoying to read, one day I'll work around that, but for now, every section in italics is present. Normal is kinda back story, sorry :3

_Breathe in._

_One._

_Look for higher ground. There's a tree 12 meters go your left that has low branches. Too low. They'll reach you there anyway. Don't hide._

_Two._

_They're catching up. Faster. Don't outpace yourself, you'll collapse of exhaustion before they get near you. You'll die anyway. They're stronger. Faster. Don't hide. Don't run. They're catching up._

_Three._

_Turn around. Fight back. They won't be expecting it. Stupid. They wont be expecting it because you'll fail. Almost certainly. Don't fight._

_Don't hide. Don't run. Don't fight. They're catching up._

_Breathe out._

_Breathe._

*****24 hours earlier*****

  
There's a hum in the air, a sort if stale stillness that he knows is going to be broken anytime now, because there hasn't been any life threatening injuries from harrowing missions recently. No ripped shirts. Even the engineers are being, well, _careful_ , and that's just something that doesn't happen. Not for long.

Truth be told, when Jim swaggers in to Medbay 3 hours later with a cocky grin he immediately knows is a precursor to the words: "We're going on an away mission." He cant help be a tiny bit relieved, because damn it all to hell, he's bored of inventory. Then he immediately takes that thought back, because he can smell trouble. It smells like sandlewood aftershave and fresh air and James " _T is for The Pain in my Ass_ " Kirk. He's pretty sure his eyebrows are already expressing their displeasure, because they're trying to meet in the middle of his forehead and stage a coup d'état.

  
"You're so cute when you scowl." Jim coos. It only proves to strengthen said frown. Beside him a passing Christine makes a swooning gesture.

"Isn't he just the darnedest. Those dimples." She croons, a teasing smirk on her face as she disappears through the pneumatic doors before he can order her away.

A rush of air escapes his lungs, a sigh of defeat despite his brain not officially deciding to raise the white flag just yet. He stretches for his ever fully stocked medbag, always within reach within a few short steps, hooks it over his shoulder, and with one last resigned furrow of the eyebrows, for show, really, asks; "where are we going?"

Jim's smile rivals the stark white lights of bedbay.

  
 *

 

  
At the first breath of air, cold and fresh like spring, he can't really regret agreeing to this. Once you've adjusted to the filtered air of the Enterprise, you don't notice just how un up to par it really is until you go on an away mission and feel the sunlight on your face. He can feel the stress that's been built up over the past few months begin to melt away. Jim, bless him, has put up with his perpetual grumpiness as part of one of the quirks of dating him, but he shouldn't have to.

He claps a friendly pat against Jim's shoulder blade, looking to everyone like a fleeting touch of friendship, but if his hand lingers and slides down his back to his hip in a gentle caress, brief and subtle, nobody says anything. He can see the corner of Jim's mouth quirk up slightly though, a brief glance up at him from under his lashes.

The gold of the setting sun between the shade of the trees deliberately mottles Jim's skin, electrifying the gold in his hair and the blue spark in his eyes and he's not sure he can tear his eyes away, and neither Jim's from him, apparently.

"According to lieutenant Sulu there are 6 hours of daylight remaining." Spock drones, breaking the moment, like spun sugar snapping between clumsy fingers. "I may suggest finding a clearing to set up a camp before meeting with the Katharenes."

  
"Of course, mr Spock." Jim says, clearing his throat slightly, finally tearing his gaze away. "Lead the way."

 

 

*

 

The camp is comfortable enough, they have tents shared between pairs, him being in Jim's tent, of course. Officially, it's because he's the one with the lowest combative training of the group and if it comes down to it, Jim would be one of the most suited to protecting him, not much better than any of the others, mind you, but no ones disputing it, even they can probably see though the weak excuse. Besides, he's perfectly capable of holding his own in a fight, Jim'd worked on that with him at the academy.

No, they're sharing because goddamn it, it's hard to sleep without each other after all this time. They do, of course. They have alternating shifts and emergencies in med bays and red alerts that need taking care of, but it's still hard. Even then they usually fall asleep or wake up in the others presence.

  
In the centre of the haphazardly lain tents is a campfire, -made with the permissions of the locals, of course- because the temperature drops at night and at least one of them needs to be on guard duty at any one point as per Starfleet regulation who-gives-a-fuck.

  
"It'll be fun." Jim says. "Just like camping." He says.

 _Yeah. Right._ Just because it's pretty here doesn't mean he wants to get mauled by a weird animal or eaten by a giant carnivorous plant like that one time Chekov had an encounter with an angry glorified geranium. Jim wouldn't protect him from that, he'd either laugh or run away screaming.

Damn him.

 

 

***

  
_He doesn't know how long it's been. His legs are struggling to keep him going, the chance of fainting if he doesn't stop sometime soon pretty high. He's completely and utterly lost._

_  
The good news is he's lost whatever was following him. Well, he can't hear them any more, but he doesn't want to turn around to check._

_The world keeps swaying, and he curses whatever his drink was spiked with, it's making him tired, dizzy and quite possibly delusional. There's a small clearing about 40 feet in front of him he thinks he'll have to surrender to his exhaustion and stop there for a while._

_His instincts are screaming at him to keep running._

_  
**"When it comes to fighting your instincts are your best friend, don't ignore them, just like surgery, Bones, you need to trust what your brain is telling you."**_

_  
Great. So he's maybe definitely hallucinating. Jim isn't here, he's alone._

_  
He makes a sharp left anyway and keeps away from the clearing._

  
***

  
The locals are, as is common, suspicious of them from the start. They're sort of clumsy in appearance, but in total juxtaposition, move with a kind of lanky gracefulness that can't really be described. They're patched in blues and browns, making them excellent at hiding in pretty much anywhere in a heavily forested environment and have these large predatory like eyes, _all the better for seeing you with, m'dear,_ especially if you're a small rodent like creature with scales that's apparently a local delicacy. (" _Tastes kinda like seaweed, Bones!"_ ) He'd declined that one, on the account of not trusting Jim, or the inhabitants of this place, as far as he could throw any single one of them.

The drinks, however, are good. They burn on the way down and leave him feeling more than a little tipsy. He's not sure how many he's had but there's one server that's being particularly attentive to keeping his cup full, so he's probably imbibed more than he should've.

 

He finds his gracious server's eyes from across the room easily, too easily, and it's just dawned on him that he's been watched most of the night. His heckles start to rise, can feel the slight prickle of danger down the back of his spine and spares a suspicious glance into his mostly empty cup, gaze narrowing. Then again, he'd scanned every substance they'd put in front of the away team, everything potentially harmful to humans was taken away so there were no accidental poisonings. Still, he can't help shake the feeling it's all just a bit... weird.

Which is why he can be forgiven for jumping out of his goddamn skin when a pair of hands land on his shoulders, spilling his drink slightly, all thoughts of a possible poisoning forgotten. Besides, he feels fine, if a little tipsy.

"Dammit Jim." He says, doesn't slur, thank you very much. Or even drawl, as Jim would describe it.

"We're heading back to camp." Jim says, eyes crinkling slightly at the corners. "You should be proud, doc. Everyone's all very impressed with you. Seems there's a lot of medical knowledge they could learn from the federation if they join."

"'Course." He mumbles, the praise making the blood rush to his cheeks like an infatuated schoolgirl. Or maybe thats just the booze. "Damn people nearly living In the dark ages, they don't even have sterilising equipment, it's no wonder their mortality rates are so high."

Jim snorts, looping an arm around his shoulders and steering him like a child towards the door.

  
"How much of that stuff did you drink?"

The walk back to camp is short, but the route winds around in a natural path through the forest. The Kathareens don't believe in deforestation, some sort of sacrilegious concept, but the paths are sparsely lit with candle like lamps every 20 or so foot, mainly done for their benefit, as the natives are able to see in the dark particularly well.

"Dunno. Didn't 'ave much of a choice since someone left me."

" _I_ was being diplomatic. Would much rather have sulked In the corner drinking with you though."

"And deprive you of all those aliens fawning over your pretty blue eyes?" Sarcasm is his best friend when general cantankerousness isn't around to keep him company.

Jim stops in his tracks, a small smile playing across his lips, mischievous and accusing simultaneously. "You're doing it again."

"Doing what?" He asks, and then quickly stops asking, because he knows exactly what Jim's referring to. A combination of the heat and good booze is making his accent stronger, a deep throaty drawl, which means he's got about 3 seconds before Jim jumps him. Or would, if they weren't on a ground mission and anyone could see them.

Not that it's stopped him before.

The kiss that follows, as he expected it would happen, doesn't really happen how he expects at all. Where Jim would usually be rough and demanding, he's soft and yielding, achingly sweet and he melts into it like butter melting in the sun.

"I'm glad you think my eyes are pretty." He rumbles, and Leonard can't help the huff of dazed laughter escaping his lips, before claiming Jim's again.

  
"C'mon." He says, halfheartedly really, since he's beginning to, dare he say, enjoy, the romance of it all. When he's on the ship the responsibility of everyone's wellbeing is on his shoulders, weighs him down like the weight of the Enterprise itself is resting there. Ground missions, while he's still on edge, do allow him a little breathing space to actually enjoy himself, to enjoy Jim not Captain Kirk. So maybe he's an idiot and does sappy shit like wrapping his arms around Jim's waist when he's been standing alone too long, or smiles more often or shows occasional public displays of affection. His ma always said he was built to be in love, just like all the other McCoy men before him. That doesn't mean he particularly wants a crew member to catch them making out... or worse. "We need to get back to camp."

  
The walk is short, but clears his head a little, there's a prickling of a headache between his eyes, like his brain is going to start throbbing against his skull anytime soon, but Jim's arm keeps knocking into his good-naturedly and the prospect of a full nights sleep in reasonable comfort is near, so he puts it out of his head as best he can.

  
By the time they arrive the majority of the away team are already gathered around the campfire, most looking like it's sending them to sleep, the remaining few still clearly enjoying the affects of the alcohol from the party as they laugh and shout jovially nearby.

"Ok everyone." Jim interrupts, and the noise soon dies down. Some of the sleepier looking crew members seem to perk up a bit. "There'll be an officer on two hour guard rotations." A dozen hands go up in volunteer, something that never fails to make Jim proud. "I'll take first shift, Spock you're up second, Valdez you're on third, Hendorff fourth. Everyone else get some rest, we have a busy day tomorrow."

  
Out of an unspoken agreement he stays with Jim instead of retreating to their tent. They both know Jim'd only wake him up when he eventually gets to bed, he's a light sleeper, after all. Besides that he'd like to keep the man company, Jim spends too much time in his own head when he's left alone and he's not quite ready for the night to be over just yet. His hand reaches unerringly for his med kit on his hip, long fingers plucking a hypospray and loading it with mild painkiller before plunging it into his neck.

"Headache?" Jim asks softly, shifting slightly as if to invite Len to sit next to him as the last of the away team file into their tents. There's two padds in his hands, one of which is his that Jim must of grabbed from the tent at some point, handing it to him when he gracelessly sits himself next to the blonde.

He nods his head, both in thanks and in agreement, content to read while Jim keeps vigilance. He knows they won't talk much, Jim takes guard duty very seriously -as he should- and Len isn't going to compromise the safety of the away team by distracting him. So, he settles, stretched out on the surprisingly springy earth and propped up by his elbows as he scrolls through a paper he tasked medical ensign Swindon to write. It's interesting, if a little all over the place. The kid shows promise though, high marks in all her exams and aptitude tests. Could make an MD if she set her mind to it, though he expects she'll go into a research position, if the time spent in the labs fawning over the supposed healing properties of Sulu's new plants is is anything to go by.

 

He signs off on the assignment, having added long comments of both praise and considerations for improvement and sends it back to her, just in time as the words start to blur on the screen. He sighs, pinches the bridge of his nose and resigns the fact that this is now a migraine as his head throbs in time his his heart. The dancing light of the fire isn't helping much either.

"Head still bothering you?" Jim asks, and while his voice is quiet it's still a shock to hear when everything's been so silent for the past hour. He nods gingerly, surprised when Jim replaces his fingers at his temples with his own and begins to try and ease out the tension. It's lasts for a frustratingly short amount of time, before Jim removes his hands and nudges him into position, so his head is resting in Jim's lap so that he has proper leverage to massage his scalp, interspersed with carding his fingers through dark hair.

He takes one distant and fleeting concern that if one of the crew walked out of their tents this position may look particularly compromising for their captain and CMO to be sat like this if they saw them from the wrong angle, but the thought disappears quickly because Jim's fingers are working magic on his scalp.

"You didn't have to do that, y'know." Jim says, and Lens eyes pry open to stare up at him in confusion.

"What?"

"The commentary on that assignment. You could of just signed off on it and no one would of thought anything wrong, but you sat there and worked your way through with that proud smile on your face you get whenever you see that someone's making progress, like you're surprised they've even listened to you. You made sure she'd know how to improve to be the best she can, even though you've had a full day and a migraine."

He opens his mouth to protest, but Jim shuts him off. "Ah! Don't tell me that's what anyone would do because you know full well it's not, not like that. You go out of your way every day for your med team -and all of us- but never for praise or commendation. I just- I'm proud of you."

Speechless, partly from Jim's words and partly from the pain and exhaustion, he tells himself, he turns his head and kisses Jim's inner wrist, just over his pulse as it happens to be the closest part of Jim to him, to try and convey everything he can't put into words. When he blinks away the water in his eyes and looks back up to Jim, he's smiling back at him with a fond upturn of the lips, like he heard him just fine.

"Sleep, Bones." He whispers, and resumes the idle stroking of his hair. He doesn't want to sleep, he wants to sit here, in this moment, head pillowed on the cross of Jim's legs in comfortable silence and warmed by the fire, but his eyes are drooping without permission with the gentle carding of fingers in his hair.

 

 

***

  
_Blood sport._

_Right now he's a fox and the hounds are chasing him. Why, he's not sure. Though to tear him limb from limb doesn't seem out of the realm of possibility._

_He doesn't want to find out._

_His feet are heavy against the overgrowth, twigs snapping and leaves crunching beneath his tread. A sign he's getting tired. Clumsy._

_He'll have to stop soon.  
The ground beneath him dips. He realises too late, mid tread, and before he can stop himself his ankle buckles, sending him sprawled face down on the dry dirt. He grimaces, pressing his forehead to the ground as he bares his teeth in a silent cry. Half a minute. He can have half a minute to suffer this, undignified and clutching at his ankle whilst his trackers inevitably catch up the distance._

_  
There's a clump of bushes about 20 feet to the left of him that could offer him some cover, if it wasn't for the Katharenes' phenomenal sense of smell that would find him in a minute if he hid anyway._

_For dignity's sake he clambers to his feel and exhaustedly limps towards the over growth. He's cold, uncomfortable and hungry, but drowsy from whatever his drink was doused with and as soon as he lowers himself to the ground, despite the danger he's putting himself in just by staying here, his eyes shut against the stark green of the world._

_When he wakes up, it's pitch black and the air smells of dust and mould, heavy and stagnant and clogging his nostrils._

_Adrenaline causes the same feeling as being on a swing set and realising you're about to slip, the drop sensation that rushes to your stomach and disperses there just as quickly as it came, like a penny falling down a well only to be saved by a pool of water at the last moment. He feels it, in the pit of his stomach as he reaches out for a hope of escape, and instead fingers scrape along a stone wall._

_They caught him._

 

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think, good or bad or anything in between <3


End file.
